


in kind

by wan (kuro49)



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Roof Sex, episode: s01e07 Weak Humans Wise Demons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/wan
Summary: He could have died, he should have died. And he would have died too if he didn’t have the need to live and love.





	in kind

**Author's Note:**

> Or the one where I am going to completely ignore the part where koda betrays akira for no good reason.

They are on the roof, overlooking the Koshien stadium.

“You know you are not obligated to me, Fudo. You already saved me once.”

Koda’s eyes follow the bright lights, the track washed of blood and he can feel that consistent itch just beneath his skin to take off running and never quite stop. It takes him a long moment before he can look away, and he looks to Fudo Akira sitting cross-legged barely an arm’s length away from him.

He has no idea what he wants with him or why he cares to keep him alive like a little stray pet he is hiding from his parents. But the dinner he brings him has been devoured and the plastic waste left over has been carefully put away for Akira to toss when he leaves.

“It’s Akira.” He says, and out of his devilman skin, Fudo Akira is a timid guy even if he has the frame to command a room.

Koda can wonder why Akira comes to him like this, day after day, keeps coming back to him like he is some kind of starting point but when he leans back on his hands, stomach full, he only finds himself thinking: One need fulfilled with one more to go.

He looks to Akira and finds that the other isn’t that far behind on thinking the exact same thing.

“You’re a weird guy, aren’t you?”

Akira shrugs at that, and Koda isn’t quite satisfied with just that so he continues, his eyes never quite shifting away from staring right at Akira.

“You didn’t have to save me.”

Without hesitation, Akira replies. “I wanted to.”

Koda wants to call him a liar but he remembers Akira walking up to him in the crowded locker room, tears streaming down his face and he wants to know how long Akira has lived with his heart on his sleeve, bared out to the world and bleeding, and how he’s lived for so long.

“You’re the kind of person that wants to save everyone.”

Akira doesn’t answer, just looks away like he’s been caught red handed and Koda almost has to laugh at that.

Because in the aftermath of having the presence of demons dragged into the light, here is a devilman’s hope and dream.

“Is that bad?” Akira asks in the pause that follows.

Koda doesn’t have an answer for that, he has blood on his hands that even the love of Junichi’s caliber could not survive. He only understands himself as inherently foul. He doesn’t _get_ to answer a question like that.

 

The breeze is cool, the moon is bright, and Akira’s skin is all feral heat beneath his hands.

Maybe it is a sense of comradery but when Akira asks whether they can (sounding uncertain and _shy_ and looking at anything but Koda), he figures the same deep pit filled to the brim with a demon’s libido for debauchery happens to the both of them.

It doesn’t leave much room for a _no_ when they can both see the matching sexual frustration that comes with keeping the devil from taking over completely.

Koda takes hold of Akira’s hips as he fucks into him, hears the ragged drag of air between Akira’s teeth as he hits that spot he’s been whining for. He has him braced against the door leading down from the roof and every thrust that leaves them flushed against one another has the worn metal hinges rattling in protest.

“Feels good?” Koda asks but it is really more of a statement when Akira shoves back rough enough to get him moving at a pace that is almost punishing for the both of them, shoves back hard enough to have the blunt edges of Koda’s fingernails bite deep angry red crescent moons into his skin.

He groans with how tight Akira feels around him as he takes him to the hilt, and Akira growls out something low and encouraging instead of a response.

The noises they make seem louder with how quiet the nights can get.

Koda wants to stay in control but the fact remains that he has Amon just beneath Akira’s skin and if that doesn’t make the demon inside of him want to claw its way out, he isn’t quite so sure what could rouse it.

Because there is sweat collecting at his brows, smears of pre-cum dripping from the head of his cock, streaks of lube down the insides of his thighs as he thrusts in with an obscenely wet sound. There is the stretch and the burn and the way Akira accommodates him as he moves with each snap of his hips.

Koda wants to make him work for it, and maybe beg a little more for it than the cant to his ass and the way Akira’s dark eyes look hazy and unfocused and on the brink of giving in entirely. Akira doesn’t say it, he doesn’t have to, Koda knows by personal experience just how much it takes to keep this demon body of theirs sated.

This is not the worst thing about him by far. 

He could have died, he should have died. And he would have died too if he didn’t have the need to live and love. Here is the difference between Fudo Akira and Koda Moyuru: there is nothing left on this earth for Koda to love.

Maybe it’s _thanks_ without the word. Maybe it’s being saved without wishing for it.

Or maybe it is just Akira being Akira, and how good remains in a world gone bad.

 

Here is the hunt, here is the kill.

Koda has Akira here and he isn’t quite so sure which one of them is the stray, but he cried tears for him when he couldn’t do it until it is long overdue (when what remains of Junichi’s body has been collected for cremation, his ashes sitting in his parent’s home, days and weeks and months after until he comes across that video of him on his bed and in his sheets telling him that they will run on a world stage together like it is a promise).

In the grand scheme of things, there is little that matters when the world has much worse to fear.

It is not just the push of his fingers into his mouth. It is the slow building ache in Akira’s jaw as he opens up wider, the press of Koda’s fingertips against the soft wet slide of his tongue pulling back in reflex to the intrusion.

It is a push turning into a shove into a turn of Koda’s wrist and Akira swallowing harder.

“There are some people that don’t deserve saving.”

His fingers mimic every thrust that drives Akira right up against him as he fills him from each end. When Koda pulls out, fingers dripping in his spit, he drags it over his chin, his throat, the bob of his Adam’s Apple as Akira keens, low and needy and almost breathless. He has no idea if he hears him, he has an idea it wouldn't matter regardless. Koda figures if this is what corruption feels like, he can enjoy it while he can. He is a liar but he has never once claimed to be a good one.

When the first sob chokes out of Akira as he comes, Koda doesn’t notice the tears running down his own face when he follows. His chest is heaving and the pendant resting against his collar bones feel warm to his skin, they stay still for a moment while the splashes of his tears leave wet trails down Akira’s spine.

When he turns around, Akira’s face is a mess.

Koda isn’t quite so sure how you face a smile this soft. But Akira is red around the eyes and his voice is hoarse when he speaks with absolute conviction. “You don’t really believe that.”

They are on a roof that is overlooking the Koshien stadium, there has to be a reason why he is a devilman and not the devil instead.

 


End file.
